


She Knows Destruction Makes The World Burn Brighter

by anemic_cinema



Series: World's End Boyfriend [11]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: No queers after the zombie apocalypse? I don't think so.</p><p>Things get difficult for Daryl and Glenn after their night together, and Daryl and Sophia bond.</p><p>Content Warning: mentions of domestic abuse (physical/mental/emotional), mention of suicide, mention of child abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Knows Destruction Makes The World Burn Brighter

The sound of retching woke Daryl up. It took him a minute to orient himself and remember where the fuck he was. The pounding in his head sure as hell wasn't helping. As he looked up at the ceiling tiles, he remembered: the quarry, the CDC, a shitload of wine, Glenn...

He sat up abruptly, his head protesting violently. Clumsily, he got to his feet and looked into the bathroom. Glenn was crouched over the toilet, heaving, and still naked. Daryl looked down and suddenly felt too exposed. He grabbed his clothes from the cold tile floor and quickly put them on outside of the bathroom.

“You ok kid?” He asked as he zipped up his pants.

Glenn groaned. “Never again. I never want to see a drop of booze as long as I fucking live.” He stopped, another wave of nausea building in his throat. 

“Just puke it out, you'll feel better for it.” Daryl paused, looking around the room. There was the pile of cushions on which he'd slept. His memory was a little fuzzy because of the hangover, but he remembered that Glenn had slept next to him. After they'd messed around in the shower. 

“Jesus Christ that actually fuckin' happened.” Daryl said quietly. The memory of Glenn on his knees in front of him, his mouth on him, those hands of his. It was making him feel weak.

“What's that?” Glenn was upright now, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom for support. “Can you pass me my clothes please?”

“Sure.” Daryl tossed him his back pack. The older man could see the bruise on Glenn's neck. Proof that the kid had been in his arms, and had let Daryl touch him. 

“Thanks” Glenn looked as if he might say something, but he didn't. Instead he just turned around and started to get dressed. 

Daryl stood in the middle of the room, not sure of anything. The ground he'd been standing on before last night no longer existed, and he was in free-fall now, trying to grasp at anything that would stop the feeling that he was going to crash at any minute. This room wasn't helping. He felt trapped by what had felt like safety not too long ago. So, without a word, he slipped out, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Hey Daryl, last night...well, last night was pretty awesom-” The younger man exited the bathroom to find himself talking to no one. His heart dropped and the nausea came back in force. Daryl was gone. Of course he was gone. He'd been stupid to think that what happened had been anything but the booze. He sat on top of of the cushions they'd slept on, trying to ignore the sickness in his stomach and the sadness welling up in his eyes. It couldn't have been just the booze, they'd kissed before, touched each other before. The guy had gotten a hard-on just from kissing him for fucks sake!

Glenn felt numbness wash over him. All that didn't mean anything. It just meant that in those past moments, Daryl had been willing. It didn't say anything about last night. What if he'd taken it too far, too soon? What if the booze had clouded his judgment to the point where he hadn't noticed Daryl not wanting to do it? He desperately racked his brain, trying to remember details from the night before. Daryl had seemed like a willing participant all the way through, but what if he hadn't been? Bile rose in his throat, and he launched himself towards the toilet. As he heaved out the remaining contents of his stomach, dread and guilt took their place. 

*******

Daryl wandered the halls, his head still pounding. He felt bad, leaving the kid like that, but he figured it was for the best. Even though a small voice inside his mind was screaming at him to march his sorry ass back to that damn room and sit with the kid. But, realistically, there was no way Glenn would want him around. Last night was a fluke, brought on by too much wine and desperation. It had to be. Despite everything that happened before, it was impossible that Glenn would actually want him. It was alright though. At least he'd had that one moment, and it was more than he could've ever asked for. 

He stumbled into what looked like a rec room. The lights were too damn bright. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he saw a small figure in one of the corners, curled up on a chair, reading a book. It was Sophia.

“Yer up early.” He sat in an armchair across from her, holding his head in his hands. 

The girl looked up a him. She could tell he was feeling sick. She'd often seen her father in the same state. “I couldn't sleep. And I wanted to read.” She held out the book in her hands, it's cover full of bright colors. “Wanna read it with me?”

Daryl looked up. For someone who'd just seen her father die, she looked like she was keeping it together. But children are strong like that, they find ways to survive.

“No thanks...you holdin' up ok?”

Sophia nodded, but didn't say anything. 

“I'm sorry 'bout yer daddy.”

Sophia felt something shift within herself. Sorry? For what? “Mr. Daryl, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” He leaned back in the arm chair, trying to will the headache to go away.

“Am I bad for not being sorry. About my dad?”

Daryl just looked at her. She was what, seven, eight year old? He could remember being her age. Knowing too much, having seen too much, feeling too much, but having no way of doing anything about it, except dreaming and hoping that things might change, but knowing in the back of his mind that nothing would. 

“He was mean to my mom,” Sophia stared at the pages of the book. There was an illustration of a woman in a tower, talking to a dragon. In the story the princess was friends with the dragon and she lived in his tower because she liked it there, and didn't want princes bothering her. “He made her cry every day. He hurt her. But he can't hurt her anymore. He can't hurt me.” The knuckles of her tiny hands were white and her voice was much colder than a child's voice should ever be. “I'm glad he's dead.”

“Sophia, yer not bad, not at all.” Daryl looked up at the ceiling. The tiles were the same in every room. “My daddy was just like yours, and when he died, I wasn't sad. I was real happy in fact, because it meant he couldn't hurt me no more, even though I was grown. Do you think I'm bad?”

Sophia shook her head. That was a stupid question. There was a reason why he had wings on his vest after all. 

“Then you ain't either kiddo.” 

“Sophia?” Daryl turned his head when he heard the voice from the doorway. Carol's worried face relaxed when she saw her daughter, safe and curled up with a book. “Oh honey, you scared me. C'mon, why don't we go get some breakfast.” Sophia did as she was told, putting aside her book and going to her mother. 

Carol knelt down. “You go on and get washed up first, and I'll be right there, ok honey?” She stroked her daughter's hair before kissing her forehead. 

“Ok mama.” Sophia left the room, taking a look back at Daryl. Angel-man she called him, not to anyone else, but in her mind when she talked to herself. He didn't look like the angels they talked about in church, he was a lot dirtier, and he had a crossbow instead of a trumpet or a sword, but in her eyes he was one all the same.

Carol watched her leave, then turned to the scruffy, hung-over man sitting in front of her. “Thank you.”

Daryl shrugged. “Sophia's a good kid. It ain't no hardship keepin' an eye on her.”

“No, I meant, for before. I know what you did to Ed. What you told him.” Sophia had let it slip that Mr. Daryl had talked to Ed. Carol could fill in the blanks from how Ed had acted afterwards. She knew how he looked at Sophia, because he'd looked at her the same way, like she was something he could own. Something he could use however he pleased. She'd been praying that it wouldn't happen, because if it did she didn't know if she'd have the strength to kill him like the animal he was. Carol had survived this far by telling herself that at least her daughter wasn't being hurt, and that she could shield her from her husband. If that had changed, she didn't know what she would've done. But Daryl had intervened. For that, she knew she'd be forever in his debt.

Daryl didn't say anything. He avoided looking up at Carol, instead looking straight ahead. She didn't need to be saying this. His head was throbbing and it was making it hard for him to keep his eyes open and focused.

“You must think I'm a pretty shitty mother.” She smiled weakly, as if she'd just made a joke. Daryl was about to say something but she kept going. “I wasn't strong enough to leave Ed, and I put my own daughter in danger because of it. But you, you were strong, and I can never repay you for that.” Carol came closer, and grabbed his hand. She leaned down, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” With that, she left, holding her head high for the first time in a long time.

The kiss was still warm on his cheek. It was kind of Carol to say that, but he knew she was wrong. What he'd done to Ed, that was just something that had to be done. It wasn't strength at all. If he was strong he would've stayed in the room with Glenn instead of running away, convinced that the kid would not want him around in the cold, sober light of day. He slumped down in the chair, closing his eyes. Hopefully the doc had something that could cure a hangover. Maybe he even had a pill that could make him less of a coward.

********

The cafeteria was quiet, even with people moving around in it. Everyone was too hung-over to be loud. Glenn was sitting, miserable, pushing the reconstituted powered eggs on his plate with his fork. Jacqui was sitting with him, making small talk, trying to cheer him up. She was a kind woman, but there was no way he could pour his heart out to her. Not when he felt so guilty. When Daryl came in to get his food, Glenn could not bear to look at him. Just catching that glimpse of him made his stomach hurt worse. He decided that he'd talk to him alone, after breakfast. Maybe there was something he could salvage in this mess he'd made.

*******

Sophia couldn't turn away from the flames. They shone brighter than the sun. She never could've imagined destruction could be so bright. 

It was time to travel on now. She curled up next to her mother in the car, holding on to her doll, the one that she'd found on her bed when she turned four. It had been her only present that year, and it had become her most cherished possession. When Carol had tried running away with her two years ago, far away from Ed, it was the only thing Sophia had carried with her. They ended up going back, and things were ok for a while. Until one day when Sophia came home from school, and found her mother crying on the couch, the left side of her face swollen and bruised. She ran her fingers through the doll's yarn hair. Her angel-man was on his bike ahead. She imagined being able to ride alongside him, with a motorcycle of her own, not afraid of anything, just like he was. Maybe one day she would. Maybe she'd have wings then as well.

“Mama, is it hard?”

“What's that honey?” Carol's voice was wavering, but she was trying to keep it together.

“Riding a motorcycle. Is it hard?”

“I don't know baby,” she held onto Sophia a little tighter, “I don't know.”

*******

The group stopped on the edge of Atlanta to make sure all the vehicles were gassed up. Mostly though, it was to try and process just what had happened. They'd been so close to being safe, to knowing just what the hell was going on, and it had slipped out of their hands. But there was nothing to be done about it. All they could do was move on, and try to cope. Rick quickly set things in motion. Glenn was to siphon gas for their cars, and Daryl would go along with him for protection. When the younger man hear the order, he flinched. It looked like he was going to have the opportunity to talk to Daryl alone after all. 

Silently, they moved through the abandoned cars, filling up the gas cans they'd brought. Glenn was quickly becoming an expert at it. He'd figured out how to hold the hose just right and when to crimp it so he didn't get a mouthful of gasoline. Still, the fumes were enough to make him feel nauseous. Or maybe it was just his nervousness, and his regret at not talking to Jacqui more. He missed her, and felt a void where her kindness had stood. She'd always been nice to him, and they'd sometimes talked by the fire about their lives before everything fell apart. But there was no time for mourning. At least now she wouldn't have to deal with the world they'd inherited. This was their new reality, where you cried for the living and were jealous of the dead.

The two of them were still within eyesight of the others. Daryl just kept his eyes moving around, looking for any sign of danger. As gas poured out of the hose and into the can, Glenn screwed his courage up.

“Daryl, um, about last night...”

Daryl's arms tensed slightly. 

“What did you think about it? Did you, you know,” he couldn't stop swallowing even though his mouth was dry, “enjoy yourself?”

The older man shrugged. “Yeah.” Words were running away from him again, and that was the only one he could catch.

“Oh. I, uh, well, I really enjoyed it. Like, really, really enjoyed it. I was just worried that maybe you didn't.” The first gas can was full now, so he raised up the hose and placed it in the next one. A bit of gasoline splashed on his shoes.

Daryl glanced down at him. “Did it look like I wasn't enjoying 'mself? For fucks sakes kid.” He'd seen how undone he'd become under his touch. Shit, he'd exposed himself to him completely. There was no room for interpretation here as far as Daryl was concerned. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure ok? We were both drunk as hell, and then you left me high and dry this morning. I just wanted to make sure I didn't do nothing to you that you didn't want me doing.” Glenn looked up at Daryl. “I was afraid you were pissed at me.” 

Daryl sighed, letting his crossbow drop a little. Even if he were mad, he doubted he could stay feeling that way when Glenn looked at him with those honey-brown eyes. “I ain't pissed at you, I just figured you wouldn't want me around.”

“What, while I was puking?”

“In general.” 

That took Glenn aback. “Daryl, if I don't want you around, I'll tell you.” The second gas was full. “Let's haul these back.” Glenn but the cap back on the can, and lifted the both of them.

It took two more trips to get enough gas to top off all of the vehicles. The conversation between Glenn and Daryl didn't move further beyond Glenn's statement. But that was fine by the older man. He knew all he needed to know in that moment. As everyone piled into the cars and the RV, he called out to Glenn. 

“Wanna ride with me?” 

Glenn paused, and looked up at Andrea. She'd heard it too, and raised an eyebrow at him. He turned back to Daryl.

“You got a helmet?”

Daryl scoffed. “Don't be stupid. You don't need one.”

Glenn swallowed. This man was risky, in every way, and he was just enough of a fool to go along with it. “I'm gonna ride with Daryl.” He told Andrea, and jogged over to the older man.

The others looked a little puzzled at what they were seeing, Glenn climbing onto the back of Daryl's bike and putting his arms around him. Andrea and Dale shared a knowing glance.

“Never would've figured it would end up like this.” Dale mused.

“When do things ever.” Andrea sighed. As they drove off, she looked out the window at the passing scenery. It seemed bizarre now that only a few hours earlier she'd been ready to die. The world seemed a lot more alive now, even though it was dying. As she sat at the table in the RV, staring at the landscape as they drove south, all she could think of was one thing. 

'What happens now?'

**Author's Note:**

> The titles comes from the Chelsea Wolfe song of the same name. It's very apropos to how Sophia's story arc is going to go. This story marks the beginning of the second story arc of WEB. I hope you all will stick around to see what happens.


End file.
